Tuesday, March 31, 2015

click photo to enlargeWhat, you might ask, is a 1941 Austin K2 YMCA Tea van doing in the grounds of Croome Court, a mid-eighteenth century Palladian mansion? The fact is, what looks out of place is actually perfectly located because during WW2 this building and its extensive grounds were an adjunct of the nearby airbase called RAF Defford.

The airmen and civilian staff who received refreshments from such vehicles were involved with the Wellingon bombers of No. 23 Operational Training Unit. Members of the Radar Research Flying Unit worked here and had notable success in the development of airborne interception systems for night fighters. Air-to-surface-vessel radar that was a significant factor in the successful targeting of U-boats in the Battle of the Atlantic was also worked on at the site. The National Trust, who now look after Croome Court have developed the house's RAF connection in its presentation of the site to visitors. My shot was taken from beneath a large, military canvas awning over a metal frame where picnic tables had been set out!

During the war the Navy, Army and Air Force Institutes (NAAFI), a government organisation, provided most of the clubs, bars, shops, cafes, restaurants and other social facilities for the armed forces. However, these were supplemented by a number of civilian bodies such as the Women's Institute, the Salvation Army, the Women's Voluntary Service (WVS), the YMCA and local church groups. This vehicle has been painted as it would have been when in the service of the YMCA. Interestingly, this particular example was found in the Netherlands where it appears to have been left at the end of the war. It was bought and brought to Croome for restoration and eventual display, though it does more than just sit there and look interesting. The interior has been fitted out with a tea urn and electricity so that refreshments can still be served from its hatch, though this time to visitors to the house.

Thursday, March 26, 2015

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All Renaissance architecture draws its inspiration from the buildings of ancient Greece and Rome. English Renaissance architecture also borrows from the work of the Italian Renaissance architects who revived this style well before the architects of our islands mastered it. However, English architects, once they had come to grips with the challenge, showed themselves to be not only adept at using the traditional vocabulary of the style, but also capable of using these forms in new and interesting ways.

An example of this can be found in the 1821 town hall (former Sessions House) at Bourne in Lincolnshire. The architect, Bryan Browning, is not someone of national note. He is a regional practitioner who built much that is typical of the time and a few buildings that cause one to stop, look and think. His Bourne building has the piano nobile, pediment, Doric columns, arches, balusters etc typical of many other buildings of the Georgian period. But the way he disposes these parts is quite unusual. On a narrow, 3-bay elevation, he squeezes into the centre the form of a triumphal arch. This, quite unusually, contains a recessed entrance, a double staircase, columns, balcony and windows. Flanking it are shallow arches with windows above, the rightmost arch forming a passage through to the building's rear as well as offering further entries. Is it a dog's dinner or an innovative use of the elements of the classical style. I think it's definitely more the latter than the former.

Sunday, March 22, 2015

click photo to enlargeDuring my self-imposed sabbatical from my usual photography I've had to pick up images where and when I can. The previous post of the partial eclipse is one such example and today's is another.

Over the years I've quite enjoyed seeing and photographing elements of the interiors of my own or other people's houses. These subjects are easily dismissed as shots of "nothing". However, "nothing" as a photographic subject is impossible to achieve. An electronic device that records the appearance of that to which it is exposed always records "something". And, the "somethings" that can be found in houses are often interesting, not least because the image draws our attention to an overlooked reality and invites us to see it anew or as if for the first time. In recent years this photograph of light falling on carpeted stairs is one I particularly enjoyed, as is this shot of a lamp illuminating the corner of a room.

Today's photograph shows the sunlight through the Venetian blinds of our utility room casting shadows on a central heating radiator, the wall and a laminated wood stool. I liked the colours, lines, contrast and composition of this one.

Friday, March 20, 2015

click photo to enlargeI can remember precisely when I first heard the word "confluence". I must have been about 13 years of age, sitting in a geography lesson, when the teacher used the word to describe the meeting and joining together of two streams or rivers into one. Over the past several days I've thought about that word, not in the geographical sense, but as a metaphor. Why? Well, several activities that I'm involved with have come together into a stream of work, all with approximately the same end date, forcing me to drastically curtail my photography in order to complete everything satisfactorily. Apart from the essentials of day-to-day existence, such as shopping for food, I've been focused on these activities to the exclusion of all else.

With one exception. Today, the sky being relatively clear, I set up my bird-watching telescope in anticipation of the coming solar eclipse. I read that at about 9.30am the eclipse in my part of Lincolnshire would achieve about 85% coverage of the sun's surface. So, at about 9.00am I set up a piece of white card, pointed the telescope at the sun, and began projecting the image of the partial eclipse.

I've done this before with eclipses, particularly when my children were young. I find it's by far the best way to safely view this phenomenon without risking damage to your eye. There are two disadvantages: firstly the image is inverted, and secondly and it's quite tricky to find the sun and keep it aligned and focused because you have to move the telescope in the opposite direction to the one you think is required. The revolving earth causing the image to drift out of view is a relatively minor problem. Interestingly, for about half the time I was projecting the sun's image a prominent sunspot was visible. I stopped at the point of maximum coverage (main photograph) because we had other things to do, but a neighbour came round to enjoy the experience and I was glad I'd taken the time to record the event.

Saturday, March 14, 2015

click photo to enlargeDuring our return journey after a trip north, over the Humber Bridge into Yorkshire, we made a detour to look at the gatehouse of Thornton Abbey. This large, fourteenth century structure, made of bricks and stone, is the most substantial and significant feature that remains from the medieval Thornton Abbey that was founded by Augustinian canons in 1139. It is in the care of English heritage. Foolishly, prior to our visit we neglected to check that it was open and we were disappointed to find we had chosen a day when it was closed.

Consequently we were unable to enter the grounds and had to content ourselves with looking from beyond the locked gates and then across fields where there was a footpath. I wasn't too concerned because the light and weather weren't particular good for architectural photography. However, it did look like the kind of day when a black and white landscape could be made to work. As I looked at the building it wasn't the religious order who built the gatehouse that came to mind. Rather, it was Thomas Cromwell, Henry VIII's chief minister and fixer, the man who set in train the Dissolution of the Monasteries as a means of separating the English church from Rome and, at the same time, filled his king's coffers with the wealth that was appropriated.

Like many people in Britain we've recently enjoyed the BBC TV adaptation of Hilary Mantell's story of Cromwell based on her books "Wolf Hall" and "Bring Up The Bodies". The darkness of the tale as well as the dimness of the natural light in the indoor scenes, the latter something that annoyed quite few viewers, really appealed to me. Processing this shot, in which I increased the contrast and darkness of the scene, perhaps explains why I liked the director's approach to the indoor lighting in the TV series.

Monday, March 09, 2015

click photo to enlargeI've heard it argued that the white marble, limestone (and whitewash) of Mediterranean buildings, as well as reducing the impact of the sun, enhance the architecture of the buildings of ancient Greece and Roman; that the styles that arose, the ornament that developed and the massing that was adopted, came about, in part, because of the way the bright Mediterranean sun is able to throw such forms into sharp relief against their attendant shadows. Those who hold such views often advance in support of their argument the suggestion that the Gothic style developed in less brightly lit Northern Europe because it was more suited to the lower levels of sunlight. I've never found these arguments very convincing. Venetian Gothic, for example, looks just as sharp as Classical architecture under bright sunlight. Were Gothic cathedrals painted white they would look sharper still.

Moreover, Classical styles in Northern Europe, when seen under clear blue skies, show similar qualities to Mediterranean examples. I thought this a couple of days ago when I passed the Classically-styled Methodist church in Bourne, Lincolnshire. It was newly painted white and positively shone in the sunlight, the shadows of its pilasters, pediment and architrave looking like they were drawn with a ruler. Quite a contrast, in fact, to the surrounding, unadorned, bricks and mortar.

Saturday, March 07, 2015

click photo to enlargeToday's photograph is a variation on one posted a couple of days ago. This time I wanted more emphasis on the eye and my reflection. Hence, no passers-by and a different point of focus. I also quite like to include text in a photograph where the opportunity presents itself, and this example seems more than a little appropriate.

Thursday, March 05, 2015

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The terrace of houses known as Wood View, in Bourne, Lincolnshire, can never have been wonderful architecture. Though it is not without interest, and its scale certainly catches the eye, it was probably built down to a cost by a speculative builder. The main elevation is flat and uses stock bricks, with the only decorative embellishment being bands of orange brick that contrast with the buff of the walls, lintels and sills. What does stand out, however, is the chimneys. They are stepped, use similar bricks to the walls, and are very big.The dormers also catch the eye. Were they always there or are they added? I imagine the former. The whole terrace has been refurbished with new roof tiles, windows, doors, gutters and drainpipes. Any presence the buildings had and has comes from the long, straight row of almost identical dwellings surmounted by the rank of dominant chimneys.

But today the terrace has been defaced in the usual modern way, firstly by chimney-sited aerials and then by wall-mounted satellite dishes. The only blessing is that the roofs don't lend themselves to solar PV panels. Stick a few of those on and the row's disfigurement would be complete. As I travel about the country these three excrescences frequently scream out at me. The appearance of buildings good bad and indifferent is dragged down by aerials, dishes and panels (especially the latter), and the building in turn drags down its area. It's not impossible to have loft mounted aerials (ours is), and better locations (or solutions) for dishes are available. Moreover, we can't be far off the time when PV cells are built into roof tiles and panels can be phased out. Of course, the great danger with such devices festooning buildings is that eventually we stop seeing them. At that point we forget what we've lost.

Tuesday, March 03, 2015

click photo to enlargeI'm an impatient patient. During my recent bout of illness I found myself unable to settle to any task, frustrated by this, and willing my body to recover. But, of course, these things have to take their course, and no amount of imagining or fortitude or stubbornness will return a person to health until the body is ready. However, I do find that when I'm well enough to get out and about my mind is engaged by matters other than my unwellness and this is all to the good - hence yesterday's photograph - and today's.

The image above came about, as some of mine do, when I was standing about at a loose end. My wife was visiting a couple of shops on Stamford's main shopping street and I'd elected to wander about in the vicinity looking for a few shots. But, I saw not a one. As I waited - for longer than I thought would be the case - I saw an advertisement in an optician's window for "free retinal photography"; a check on the health of the eye as part of the usual optical measurement. I positioned myself so that I was reflected in the window and took several shots making use of my own reflection, the eye in the advert, and passersby. I produced a couple of shots I like. This is one of them. I may post the other if my supply of new images doesn't increase fairly soon.

Sunday, March 01, 2015

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A couple of days ago I got up from my sickbed* and accompanied my wife on a shopping expedition to Spalding. Because I hadn't been out for a while we also had a walk round Springfield Gardens, a 20 acre site adjacent to a shopping centre. As we came upon an area of reed bed and water I reflected on how well this feature had developed. In particular, how natural-looking it was, what a welcome contrast it made to the areas of formal planting, and how it must increase the biodiversity of the site.

There was a time in the latter decades of the twentieth century when, on the back of the rise in environmental consciousness, every garden seemed to acquire a "wild" area. It could be as little as a pile of rotting logs, a bed of nettles or a structure made of bamboo tubes for bees to colonise. Or it was a meadow area, a natural-looking pond or perhaps a stand of native trees and shrubs designed to attract birds and insects. What characterised many of these developments was their unnatural appearance; the way they were clearly bolted on to a traditional garden. Rather fewer fulfilled their aim of being a haven of wildness in an area of manicured order, a place attractive to native species that was a counter-balance to the regularity and species-poverty of many gardens and much agricultural land.

As I gazed across the greater reedmace, reeds and trees, I could, for a moment block out the sound of traffic on the nearby A17, forget the hum of air-conditioning in the buildings behind me, and imagine I was out in the marshes where bearded tits flitted about, bitterns boomed and the only sound was the reeds rustling in the wind.

* My absence from blogging in recent days is due, I think, to the generosity of one of my grandchildren. Not for the first time after a visit I was stricken by a minor illness; in this instance a sore throat, loss of voice, streaming nose and general lethargy. I seem to be on the mend.